


Respite

by KingFarbauti



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: FAHC, Fake AH Crew, GTA AU, Gen, mentally ill Ryan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 21:35:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7730578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingFarbauti/pseuds/KingFarbauti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan surveys the world around him, on a sleepless night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Respite

_It is quiet here._

Ryan thinks. The many pieces of his fragmented mind agree with him, in their own ways, finding various degrees of comfort and safety in the stillness. Heterochromic eyes drink in the living room of the penthouse; dark, and illuminated only by the far away lights of the city far below them. Gentle neons thrown across the walls, and painting patterns on his skin.

He listens closely, above the sound of his own, steady breathing, and above the voices. Only the gentle sounds of tired words, spoken just before sleeping, greet him. The soft snoring, or rustling of blankets above restless sleepers breaking the silence between hushed words. Eventually all remaining life in the shared space succumbs to the saccharine call of sleep, and he is left alone.

Hours pass this way. He seldom moves between spots; drifting through the penthouse like a ghost; lurking in corners, lazing on couches, leaning against walls. He surveys the home, like some silent guardian, making sure the others remain undisturbed. The tranquility remains unbroken.

Eventually his wandering leads back to his own room, nestled comfortably between Jack and Jeremy’s bedrooms, as the neon colors on the wall begin to fade and the sky begins to turn pale. He listens, nestled deep within a burrow of thick blankets and soft sheets, and some of the snoring has stopped. The world is, somehow, less quiet as things go silent just before any waking activity.

The sound of a shower running in the other room greets him suddenly, water beating against the wall like a raging storm outside. It floods the house with sound, and the peace returns. His nerves settle, and his white-knuckled grip on the blankets goes slack. This storm does not scare him; does not upset the many voices. Ryan thinks he could lay and listen to this storm forever. It lulls him soft, and he thinks just _maybe_ sleep will come. His eyes droop, just slightly, with the promise.

Sleep is not a voice that exists in his mind, yet. But if anything could herald such a blessing it would be this, this gentle storm. 

It roars on dully, and figures pass by the crack in his bedroom door as their sleepy forms answer to the noise. The kitchen is filled next. Quiet discussions over warm mugs of coffee, and the powerful scent of dark roast fills the entire penthouse, drawing the others like moths to a flame. Their voices are low, desperate not to disturb those delaying the waking world.

He lays and pretends he has not spent the entire night; listening, watching.

And Ryan’s many voices agree, with no small amount of trust.

_It is quiet here._

**Author's Note:**

> written sloppily at 4 am when i couldn't sleep. based off of things seen and heard in my own house, and the thoughts that come with them.


End file.
